Crime D'amour
by Fangirll
Summary: A fic set after the fall. Will and Hannibal make their escape and attempt to live the life Hannibal has always wanted for them.
1. Fontaine à vin

The waves were ferocious. They hammered into Wills body like icy fists, as he tried desperatley to find Hannibal below the surface of suffocating black.

Black, the word echoed in a corner of Will's mind, like the blood of the Great Red Dragon in the moonlight. And surrounded in darkness, he may aswell have been engulfed in the Dragons blood, he had been engulfed in the act of killing him, after all. Beautiful, he had called it.

Though the prickling cold water had broken the trance and torn Will from Hannibals arms, the dim light of the house from the top of the cliff kept the image fresh in his mind. Will had stabbed and clawed and slashed, the whole time filled with ecstacy. There was no escaping that truth.

For a moment he contemplated allowing himself to disappear into the rolling atlantic. 'Can't live with him, can't live without him', Bedilia's words manifested like a hissing snake, willing him to go under. He might have too, if Hannibal hadn't called out to him at that moment.

He was a few metres away, fighting against the current. Not for the first time, Will questioned his mortality. With guilty relief, he swam to him, the current now reciprocal. They clung to one another for a few moments, catching their breath, and Will found a sense of calm that only existed around Hannibal.

As sirens began to sound in the distance, Hannibal guided Will towards a small, damp cave with a rock floor just big enough to accomodate the two of them. Though the water had washed them clean, fresh blood was running from their injuries and Will felt a particulary sharp pain were the knife had slit his cheeck. As if he could sense this, Hannibal placed a gentle hand to the injury. Will rested against it, not bothering to fight his compulsion towards him, now that he had revealed himself.

As the sirens grew louder and the red and blue light reflected off the cliff face, they rested against eachother, both consumed in pain but comforted by the other's presense. Wincing slightly, Hannibal removed his top, his damp skin glistening, and pressed the material hard against Wills chest to stop the bleeding.

The FBI would think them dead. That was Wills plan. Ever since he'd witnessed the mutilation of Dr Chilton on video, he'd known his and Hannibal's death would be filmed too. The FBI were probably watching them fall right now. He hadn't told Hannibal, but once he allowed himself to be guided to the edge of the cliff, Will knew he understood.

And so they'd fallen, wrapped in eachother,completed by one another. Jack Crawford wouldn't be able to send a search party out for thier bodies until sunrise and so supposing they lived that long, they'd have time to disappear.


	2. Boudin Sang

Will's eyes fluttered open and for a moment he thought he really had sunk below the black surface of the water. It was only when he felt the gentle rocking of a boat around him, that he realized he was looking up at an starless night sky. There were a few moments of groggy bliss before the ache of his injuries caught up to him and he groaned, trying to sit up but the boat rocked more angrily. Instead he turned his head to find it was resting in Hannibal's lap.

"Carefull, Will, you'll capsize us," Hannibal's smirk embodied the droll of his voice. He was happy, even if each movement he made wracked pain through his body. He was shirtless still, a ragged piece of bloodied bandage was covering his gunshot wound and his muscles flexed with the effort of paddling them forward.

The sound of sirens was gone, only the calm creaking of wood and splashing water surrounded them. Will noticed movement a few feet away. Another person, a petite woman, rowing at the front of the boat. Squinting in the darkness, it took him a few moments to recognise Chiyoh's face.

She hadn't been part of the plan, and in that moment Will considered how entwined his and Hannibal's trails of thought must be. Afterall, he'd never known himself as well as he knew himself when he was with him.

The cold, salty wind picked up then, ripping at Will's open wounds. The boat shook more vigorously and Will took comfort in the contrasting warmth of Hannibal's bare stomach. He drifted out of consciousness, awakening twice more to the harsh gale, confused at how much time had passed.

When he awoke a third time, he was being hoisted upwards onto the hard wooden deck of a much larger vessel. As his eyes adjusted to the new dim light, Will realised it was an old fishing boat. They were surrounded by rusted metal poles and torn material. Hannibal climbed up beside him then, flicking his wet hair back from his face and helping Will to his feet. He stumbled, allowing Hannibal to stabilise him, until he could balance on his own.

Chiyoh was fighting her way through the flapping material and warping poles to the wheel house as Hannibal led the way to the hull. It was damp and dim, the only light an orange flickering bulb encased in cobwebs, but it provided a welcomed shelter from the weather surrounding them.

Groaning, Will lowered himself onto one to the two wooden benches, and Hannibal sat across from him, opening a conveniently placed first aid kit to tend to his injuries. Leaning over, he ripped the remains of Wills shirt off in one swift tug and started to apply rubbing alcohol to the knife wound in his chest. The liquid seared his skin as it trickled down his body and he had to bite his lip to stop from crying out. He laid his head against the splintering wooden frame behind him as Hannibal lit a match and began to sterilize a needle. The flames licked the metal point which gleamed between his fingers.

Threading the needle effortlessly, Hannibal met Will's eyes before he began, laying a gentle hand on his knee. There had been several times in the past that Hannibal had shown similar benevolence towards Will. When he'd killed Randall, and Hannibal had washed and dressed his battered knuckles. The fact that he'd sent Randall to kill Will in the first place seemed inconsequential now.

When he'd finished stitching, Hannibal soaked a cloth in the same liquid and held it firmly to Will's cheek. The knife had slit straight through the skin and Will could taste a bitter copper cocktail through the gash. Hannibal managed to stitch it, despite Will shaking from the torturous mixture of pain and cold. He stood then, and collected something from behind his bench, a thick grey towel. He draped it over Will's shoulders.

"Steady your hands Will" Hannibal spoke firmly, taking both of Will's shaking hands in his own. He ripped the bloodied bandage from around his torso, exposing the bullet hole, and picked the rubbing alcohol from the kit once more. Realizing he'd need to be the one to clean it, Will inhaled deeply as Hannibal unscrewed the lid.

Hannibal handed it to him, meeting his eye again, this time with a flicker of uncertainty. But as soon as Will leant forward to examine the wound, his Sanguine returned and he faced the unnameable source of dull light to be of some help.

Will was weak from blood loss but he managed to focus just long enough to spill the liquid into the wound so that it flushed through and trickled down his back. Hannibal inhaled sharply through his teeth but relaxed once Will began to clean and dress the wound. The bullet had passed through the abdominal muscle, it looked dreadfully painful but the abdominal cavity itself was unaffected.

The boat creaked and moaned around them as they took in the sight of one another, the floor littered in blood soaked clothing and wash cloths. Will was unsure of where they were heading, but in that moment it didn't matter. His predicament seemed familiar and oddly comforting.


	3. Coeur Poêlé

Hours later, after they'd eaten from the pile of dried goods on the boat, much to Hannibal's disdain, the two men limped onto the deck to watch the sunrise. The sea around them had calmed so that there was only the slightest spray of salt water in the air and above the line of stretching ocean the sky was a sublime smear of orange and pink.

"Tell me Will," Hannibal took a step closer to him as he spoke, so that if the boat should rock he would stumble into his arms and not onto the rusted metal floor, "would you like me to show you Florence after all?"

Wills lips curled into a half smile as he contemplated the offer.

"The FBI might find us, they'll be suspicious when our bodies aren't retrieved" He pictured Molly then, she'd receive the heartbreaking news that her husband was presumed dead and he felt a strong pang of guilt. His smile faded.

"You and I have both evaded the FBI before now," Hannibal's voice pulled Will from the spiral of remorse he often became engulfed in, "more beauty awaits us, Will."

Unsure if he was referring to Italian architecture or a string of artistic homicide waiting to happen, Will did not reply.

Fortunately, Hannibal was in high spirits and continued to talk enough for the both of them; "Chapels and museums await us, Will. Did you get a chance to see the Chiesa di Orsanmichele during your last visit to Italy, it really is quite stunning." Will leant against the side of the boat, lulled by it's gentle rocking and the sound of Hannibal's voice as he continued to muse over what adventures awaited them. Chiyoh remained tucked away in the wheelhouse, just as well, as an intimate encounter between her and Will would be less than comfortable after throwing him from a train and then shooting him several years before.

As he spoke, Hannibal's bare arms skimmed Wills, he was starved of human contact after having been incarcerated for so long, yet he was unwilling to upset the fragile balance he had found with him. Atop the cliff, when Will had embraced him and rested his head on his chest, it had felt like every nerve in his body had been ignited at once. Yet, even then he had been hesitant to reciprocate the touch as much as he would have liked. When they'd tended to each others injuries, it had taken every ounce of willpower for Hannibal to resist pulling Will towards him and wrapping himself around him, skin against skin. But he had waited so long to have him by his side, at least in the way he had him now, and so he could wait.

The rest of the day passed slowly but peacefully as did the days that followed. Finding the living conditions simply unbearable, Hannibal had done what he could to improve the small rusted ship as soon as he was able. Will would take longer to recover, but watched Hannibal with a rueful smile, entertained to see him so out of his element. His thoughts often drifted to Molly and Walter and it felt strange not to have the pawing and lapping of dogs around him but each day he spent by Hannibal's side felt more natural than the last. They had even taken to sleeping beneath the same blanket and gentle touches became habitual again.

There was a deeper understanding between them now, so that they could sit beside each other, often in silence, and feel a sense of serenity that they'd both been unable to find among others. It was almost as if the inevitable had come to pass and there was peace in that.

They stopped off in a Portuguese fishing town, Alvor. It was night when they arrived, more than two weeks after leaving Virginia, and they had to swim a quarter of a mile so that their boat wasn't spotted. The full moon illuminated the water, as if it were lighting the path to their new life together.

Chiyoh left them there.

As they emerged together from the water, bare feet caked in sand, clothes soaking, Hannibal smiled.

His vision was coming to pass.

They walked together through the mess of discarded fishing nets and washed up seaweed, stray cats leering from their hiding spaces. They were panting as they struggled upward towards a clutter of houses. Will slipped on the cascading sand and shells beneath his feet but Hannibal caught him.

As they approached a small, square house made of white stone with yellow accents, they heard the sound of muffled distress. A woman voice, and then her silhouette became illuminated by the light pouring from the window of the house as did that of a man who beat at her with depraved viciousness, tearing at her clothing.

Will lunged forward, almost without a thought to tear him from her but his weakened state left him at a disadvantage and the darkness didn't help. He felt rough hand grab at his throat and lifted a knee into his stomach with enough force that the attacker stumbled backwards, coughing. The gentle light from the house cast menacing shadows that resembled lanky demons with elongated fingers, clawing at one another. Will kicked him while he had the chance and as the man fell to the shingles he noticed the woman had already escaped.

Hannibal was stood a few feet away, pleasantly amused by the display but as Will turned to walk towards him his face twisted in anger. There was a forceful blow to the back of Wills head and he fell forward, feeling the slam of the attacker's feet to his gut. Before he could even comprehend what had happened, the attacker fell the the floor beside him, neck snapped, eyes blank.

Hannibal extended a hand but Will felt the need to admire his dishevelled partner for a moment before he allowed him to help him to his feet.

"Shall we?" Hannibal motioned towards the body and together they carried it into the house, it's only inhabitant now draped over the kitchen island. Will left Hannibal searching through the drawers and cupboards, excusing himself to the bathroom where he took in the slightly unfamiliar man in the mirror.

He had grown a short beard while they had sailed, it was more sparse around his wound but still did a good enough job of covering it. His hair lay damp against his face and his sopping wet top clung to his chest. It wouldn't do by Hannibal's standards. He cleaned and trimmed as best he could, opting to keep the beard.

When he returned to the kitchen, a dry towel in hand, Hannibal was already hard at work. There was an incision in the attacker's chest and the body now lay on the floor, in the corner of the room. The smell of herbs and the sizzling of oil in a pan brought a sense of comforting familiarity to Will.

Hannibal looked up from where he was preparing their meal, knife in hand and smiled approvingly. He passed a freshly washed heart to Will and took the towel to begin fixing his own appearance.

"Is this symbolic?" Will asked, placing it on a chopping board.

"I have given you mine figuratively, however, literally this will have to do." Hannibal answered cheerfully, tilting his head to the side to gage Will's reaction.

"It is..ample." Will said, with more humour than he had planned to convey.

"My dietary choices are more agreeable to you now, Will?"

Will thought, looking over at the crumpled body for a moment, before he answered.

"I find it hard to have... _compassion_...for a rapist." Will picked the knife up from the counter, "pan seared?" He asked. Hannibal nodded, it was a meal they had eaten before though, not to Hannibal's knowledge, it had been a pigs heart that they had consumed.

Will prepared the meat in the way that he had been taught, and Hannibal watched on with what appeared to be pride written across his face.

"Is this our happy medium, Will?" Hannibal asked, coming to his side and scooping the pieces of heart into the pan where they hissed upon hitting the oil.

"Eating rapists?" Will asked, dryly.

"Eating those for whom you find it difficult to feel compassion?" Hannibal seasoned the searing meat as he spoke. His damp sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and Will could see his back muscles through the translucent material as he worked dexterously.

"It _is_ more agreeable," Will had known certain lines would have to be crossed when with Hannibal. And if he were honest with himself then it was exactly where he _wanted_ to be.

Hannibal nodded, he could make certain sacrifices if it meant having Will by his side.


	4. Savon et d'épices

The meal was as delectable as expected, if not as elaborate given the lack of accompanying ingredients to choose from. When they had finished eating, sat across from each other at a small round table by the window, Hannibal suggested they wash properly and then get some sleep.

While Will showered, relishing the availability of soap and shampoo, Hannibal leant against the tiled wall inside the bathroom, not wanting to be too far from him. He might have stepped into the shower with him but he was still tentative regarding their bond. Will hummed quietly as he lathered himself in soap which brought a smile to Hannibal's face. When he stepped out of the shower, Hannibal wrapped the towel around him, inhaling his fresh scent.

"Better?" Will asked jokingly.

"Yes," Hannibal replied, beginning to undress, "and not tarnished by that awful aftershave you use to be so fond of."

Will kept the door to the en-suite open and perched on the edge of the double bed to dry. Hannibal had laid two pairs of clean pyjama bottoms on the end of the bed so he picked one and then climbed beneath the duvet, grateful to finally feel the comfort of a mattress again after what felt like a lot longer than two weeks.

He could have fallen asleep there and then but decided to wait for Hannibal to join him. Eventually the numbing sound of running water halted and Hannibal emerged, dripping wet, donning a white towel around his waist. His face was freshly shaven and his hair was combed back in the style that he preferred. He turned from Will to dress, who felt no shame in admiring his back and toned buttocks as several drops of water evaded the towel and trickled downwards. He had only ever felt attraction for women, but the emotions that Hannibal brought to the surface in him escaped the confines of all available labels. It was something deeper than both, physical and emotional attraction. It was something that he had yet to fully come to terms with, a bond that had been consummated with the killing of The Great Red Dragon.

Hannibal slipped beneath the sheets beside him, close enough that their arms and legs were touching. Will couldn't help but shift just a little closer, the bed offered more space than the hull of their small ship had and close proximity had become necessary to the both of them when withstanding the icy nights crossing the Atlantic ocean.

"Goodnight, Will"

But Will was already too heavy with sleep to answer him.

 _Black water surrounded him again, not water, it was thicker than water but just as impossible to breathe. He was smothered and Hannibal was nowhere to be seen. He tried to call out to him but the black liquid filled his lungs like burning tar. The sound of sirens blared in his ears increasing in volume and pitch. He writhed in vain, reaching and thrashing to find Hannibal in the abyss. There was no light to reveal the surface but somehow he could tell he was sinking deeper and deeper._

He awoke with a sharp intake of breath, sweating and shaking, his heart racing, his chest tight.

"Hannibal?" His voice was raspy and weak. He patted the bed beside him in the dark to find it empty. As he got to his feet and stumbled towards the light switch he heard movement downstairs and his heart calmed a little. He flicked the light on, squinting as his eyes adjusted and then made his way quietly down the stairs so that, at first, Hannibal did not notice his presence in the doorway.

He lingered there, silently watching as Hannibal washed his hands. Relief washing over him now that he was in sight. Having spent the majority of time by his side since they'd killed together, he hadn't realised quite how dependant he had become.

"Hello, Will," Hannibal didn't turn but Will could hear a hint of humour in his voice. He wasn't sure how long he'd known he'd been stood there. Stretching his arms above his head, still sleepy, he sat at one of the bar stools.

"Can't sleep?" He asked.

"Sleep has never come so easily," Hannibal replied, drying his hands in a tea towel and leaning across the kitchen island so that their faces were only inches away from one another. "However, our host had to go for a little swim."

Will turned then, to see the body was gone.

"So, he drowned?" He asked, wondering how the coroner would explain the lack of a heart come the post mortem. He might have worried a moment longer if his attention had not been drawn to Hannibal's lips as they twitched into a small smile, so close to his own.

"You really should sleep Will, we have a long journey tomorrow," Hannibal took a step back, snapping Will out of his haze. He was dangerously persuasive, but he did not hold quite enough sway over Will to send him back to the room alone.

"I am almost done here," Hannibal added, sensing his hesitation.

"I'll wait," Will tried his best to sound nonchalant as he rested his head on the counter.

Hannibal set about preparing food for their journey the next day.

"To waste this would be criminal," he insisted, layering unidentifiable slices of meat between salad leaves in two clear pots. Will mumbled his agreement, nestling his face into his own arm for lack of a pillow.

The black liquid didn't threaten to engulf him there and so he rested his eyes and listened to the sounds of pots and pans, and knives striking the chopping board. It was almost trance-inducing and Will found himself fighting to stay awake so that he was certain Hannibal was close by. But with the warmth radiating from the oven and heavy eyes, he eventually had to give in to sleep.

 _Was he on the boat again, he was rocking._

He stirred but not completely, feeling Hannibal's arms around him as he carried him up the stairs. His head was resting against his chest and, eyes closed, he listened intently to the steady beat of his heart. The rhythmic sound of life. Suddenly he felt all too overwhelmed with the notion that Hannibal could have died, many times, and by Will's own hand. Now that they had truly seen one another, he couldn't imagine a world without him in it.

He turned his face towards Hannibal's chest so that his lips brushed lightly against his skin. Not quite a kiss, but far from platonic. The gentle heart beat quickened, and Will felt giddy with the idea that he could affect him in such a way.

Still feigning sleep, he didn't move when Hannibal placed him gently on the bed, pulling the quilt up to his chin, his hand lingering near his face for a few moments before he crossed the room to join him. As he climbed in beside him, maintaining the restraint he always practised in such situations, the scent of soap and spice wafted across to tease Will's nostrils. He couldn't help but turn to his side so that his arm rested on Hannibal's chest and his face on his shoulder. He felt a hitch in Hannibal's breathing but then the two of them relaxed so entirely that Will was asleep again in seconds.

Had he stayed awake he would've known that Hannibal lay there overwhelmed by a sense of content unlike anything he had ever felt. . Will's touch, Will's consent, was so beautiful to him that he couldn't sleep for fear of missing even a moment of it. Instead he lay very still as the sun rose from behind the curtains, not wanting to wake him.


	5. Chapter 5

Hey guys, thankyou so much for following my story, I am moving it permanently to A03 from here on out.

Sorry for the inconvenience. But don't worry you don't need an account to view or even comment.

The next morning they gathered what money they could find, donned stolen outfits and left. It was just after sunrise and from a distance fishermen could be seen dragging a body from the shore. Will felt an urge to keep his head down, but instead copied Hannibal's posture, head held high as the two of them walked side by side to the main road.

They followed it until they ventured into a tourist destination, blending in with the pedestrians as they flagged down a taxi.

"We'll travel through Spain, France and Switzerland, It should take us two days," Hannibal spoke quietly so that the driver did not overhear. "But first," He raised the sleeve of his borrowed clothing to his face and grimaced, "We need to make a quick stop".

Will shouldn't have been surprised when they stepped out of the taxi onto the doorstep of a quaint yet sophisticated tailors. The sun was beating down on them now and Will felt terribly exposed. Just the thought of the FBI finding them there created a tight knot in his stomach.

"Hannibal, I really don't think there's time-"

"Nonsense, You and I have all the time in the world, Will" Hannibal interrupted leading the way.

' _You know, Will, you worry too much. You'd be so much more comfortable if you relaxed with yourself._ ' Hannibal's past words circled in Will's mind.

Inside an elderly, dark featured man welcomed them, measuring tape in hand. Hannibal immediately started listing the items he had decided they were in need of, while Will stood awkwardly in the doorway. And suddenly he was being ushered over to a full length mirror, protesting in vain. His disgruntled reflection seemed to amuse Hannibal, who stood smiling behind him.

Will eyed him in the mirror, trying to ignore the invasive prodding of the tailor. He couldn't help but share some of Hannibal's humour in the matter and so he relaxed a little. Of all the things he'd known he'd have to grow accustomed to, fitted shirts hadn't made it onto the list.

There was something whimsical about the shop's interior. Mannequins surrounded them in an assortment of poses, enrobed in suits and waistcoats that matched Hannibal's tastes exactly and dust particles floated tenderly in the light that streamed through the windows. It felt comfortable and secluded.

Hannibal took his turn next, looking dignified as ever as the measurements were taken. He slipped the tailor some money.

"It's of the utmost urgency that we get these this evening," he said, before they left.

Will fell to Hannibal's side, he seemed to know where he was going.

"You know Will, Bedelia and I made several useful connections on our own trip to Florence. I can get us everything we'll need to get there safely."

Will nodded, a feeling of resentment making itself present at the mention of her name, or was it jealousy? He was as much behind the veil as she had been, no, more so. After all, he had always been Hannibal's intended partner, she had merely been a substitute.

They weaved through the busy streets of the small shopping town, Hannibal trying not to tut and sigh when the tourists blocked the path or walked too slowly.

"You can't eat them all," Will murmured into his ear, which elicited a grin.

One stop after another, they built up a collection of items that would aid in their escape, fake passports and money from one of Hannibal's covert accounts.

"For now we are Victor Simmons and Benson Smith," Hannibal said, passing Will his leather bound identification. He couldn't help but find the names a little pretentious,"I'll be Ben", Will clarified, slipping the passport into his jacket pocket.

When they finally returned to the tailor, the sun was already setting and two suits were laid out across the small man's work bench. For Will, a fitted blue-grey herringbone suit with a navy velvet pocket square and for Hannibal, a dark grey checked number with a nipped waist and burgundy tie and pocket square.

They changed there and Will couldn't help but admire himself in the full length mirror before they left. He caught Hannibal watching him and blushing, turned to leave but he pulled him back by his wrist to face the mirror once more.

"You see the difference a well fitted suit makes?" He asked, rhetorically, for nobody was doubting the way the fabric helped sculpt Will's frame. He stood behind him, his breath warm against Will's neck, perfecting his collar with one hand while the other rested gently on his shoulder.

Will nodded, though he was looking past his reflection to Hannibal who looked equally as alluring.

Hannibal was truly making him his own, and Will was _enjoying_ it. The clothes, the scars, he was practically branded. He leant slightly towards Hannibal's touch and wondered if he noticed.

"You look dashing, Benson," He said, smirking, letting his hands linger so that his index finger brushed against Will's neck. And he did, though Hannibal found himself overcome with the urge to unburden Will from his new clothing there and then.

The tailor cleared his throat behind them, shifting from foot to foot.

"Ah, we must be going," He added then, swallowing his annoyance at the tailor's audacity and handing him yet more money. His interruption was an annoyance but Hannibal couldn't leave another body behind so close to the last. Besides, he knew Will would disagree with his choice if he did. The intimacy they had shared the night before was still fresh in his mind and he wouldn't risk their partnership while it was still in such a fragile state.

They caught another taxi upon stepping out and Hannibal placed their bags on the far seat so he could sit in the middle, next to Will. It was nearly pitch black now apart from the dotted street lamps and occasional passing headlight. Having not slept properly the night before, Hannibal was finding himself quite fatigued. The quiet hum of the engine, and Will's presence to his right, put him at ease and he felt himself sinking into sleep, his head resting on Will's shoulder as he slumped against him.

He stirred at the border, remembering to refer to himself as Victor when he showed the patrol his passport, even in his drowsy state. He settled back into sleep soon though and Will eventually diverted his attention away from the dozing man at his shoulder to peer out of the window. They were in Spain now, Cordoba to be exact, and the architecture they passed was beautifully illuminated against the black night. The city was a display of great sparkling arches and white stone pillars and beams.

Will half wished he could wake Hannibal so that he could describe the history behind it all but this was the first time Hannibal had fallen asleep before him and to have him there as heedless as he was, was fascinating in it's own way.

There was less to see once they got to Tomelloso, a more rural destination, and so Will placed his own head atop Hannibal's and joined him in sleep.

"Isto é tanto quanto eu ir", _this is as far as I go,_ the drivers voice woke them in unison. They were in Zaragosa and the clock on the dashboard read 4:00am.

"Ah, perfect," Hannibal mumbled, straightening his suit out peering through the window to see that they were being dropped off outside of a small yet pleasant hotel.

Will stretched and stifled a yawn as Hannibal pulled another handful of cash from a seemingly bottomless pile and handed it to the driver.

They stepped drearily onto the patio with the few bags that they had and Hannibal nodded a second thanks to the driver before he turned to lead the way into the reception.

Will found a coffee machine in the foyer and so left Hannibal to book their room while he took in his fill of caffeine.

When they had climbed the narrow staircases to their room on the third floor, Will was relieved to see Hannibal had booked one king sized bed between them. Hannibal walked past a small dressing table to gaze out over the city lights from the large window while Will stripped down to his underwear and climbed under the sheets, pulling them up to his chin. But before he did he was careful to hang his new suit carefully on one of the spare hangers, sure that Hannibal wouldn't appreciate the way he usually dismissed his own clothes into heaped dirty piles on the floor.

"What is it?" Will asked, watching Hannibal as intently as he was surveying the surrounding rooftops.

"I'm just appreciating the beauty of this new reality I find my self in, Will." He answered thoughtfully.

"Yeah, the view is something," Will mumbled, wishing he'd just join him in bed so they could sleep properly for a while.

"I don't mean the view, Will." Hannibal almost chastised, drawing the curtains and climbing onto the bed so that he was leaning ever so slightly over Will. He lowered himself slowly so that his lips brushed against his cheek, his breath catching when Will leaned closer. His lips trailed over his skin for a few sensual moments until they rested in a gentle kiss on his forehead.

Will thought about meeting Hannibal's lips with his own, but thought better of it and instead, nestled against him purposefully so that they fell asleep entwined in each others arms.


End file.
